Chapter 6

Hermione sat at her vanity mirror applying the finishing touches of her mascara. She knew full well she could always just magic her make-up on, but she preferred doing it the Muggle way. The time she spent was as much an emotional and mental preparation as it was a physical one. And tonight of all nights, she needed the extra time.

It was taking her far longer than she had originally anticipated though. Her mind just refused to stay focused on the task at hand. It was hard when vivid images of her encounter with Ron four days earlier kept resurfacing without warning.

----------

"I hate you, Ron Weasley." She spat, trying feebly to be cruel.

"The feeling is completely and utterly mutual," he growled in return.

In a blur, his lips were pressed to hers. She let out a small squeak of shock, but his needful, demanding kisses quickly pulled her out of herself and she began to move her lips against his just as fiercely.

He felt so good. His lips were so soft. She wanted more… more of him… needed to taste him. Taking the initiative, she forced her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss and she was rewarded with a guttural moan from deep within him. His tongue caressed hers in rolling motions, making her head swim. Merlin, his kisses were heady…

As his hands slid slowly down her arms, she could feel nervous energy coiling tightly in her chest. His fingertips moved to dance lightly at the edge of her breasts, and she couldn't control the gasp that shook her.

Then, as quickly as he had claimed her, his lips and touch were gone. She felt the loss immediately. She opened her eyes to see him casting about apologetically. She didn't even really hear what he was saying. She was too mesmerized by the maddening fullness of his lips.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had launched herself at him taking his head in her hands, and crushing her mouth to his. His arm snaked around her and his other hand dug in and grabbed a handful of her hair. She had never felt so fully and wonderfully possessed in her life. The play of his muscles and skin under her hands sent her tumbling further into a tumult of sensation.

Every laboured breath, every frantic caress was a battle to get closer. Closer together. Closer to completion…

----------

Hermione shook herself from the heated daydream, and realized she was staring vacantly into the mirror. She was flushed, her lips tingled, and her whole body was buzzing. How long had she been sitting dumbly like that?

Grabbing her lip pencil with a certain amount of hostility, she huffed and leaned forward.

'I have every right to be furious with him,' she tried to justify.

Making her think that he was not only with Lavender, but had also gotten her pregnant was beyond cruel. He knew Lavender was a sore spot for her, and he purposely used it against her. As much as she tried to hold onto and even encourage her anger, she couldn't deny the feeling of overwhelming relief that swept over her when Lavender went into labour and she learned the truth.

Apparently, word of the Lavender fiasco had spread throughout the family but no one had questioned her directly about it. She could tell by the scornful looks Mrs. Weasley and Ginny's were casting in Ron's direction that he had definitely already received more than an earful.

For her own part, Hermione had made a point of being curt and aloof with him wearing her ire proudly like a badge. On the outside she was the picture of icy politeness but with each passing day of wretched silence, she had grown more and more concerned by his despondent behavior.

Under normal circumstances, he would have huffed at her angrily, or even made a loud outburst of indignation by now. He would have claimed she was just as much to blame, and accused her of being just as cruel. In short, she was waiting for the blaring row to end this bitter stalemate.

But it didn't come.

Instead, he wouldn't look at her. He barely spoke to her. When he did, it was only out of necessity. She tried to convince herself at first that he was playing at being angry. On closer observation though, she realized that simply wasn't the case. He was so desperately quiet and withdrawn it scared her.

One specific conversation kept haunting her. It had been the first time they'd really spoken to each other since the incident behind the shed.

----------

"Well, I went ahead and made the dinner reservations at 'The Apothecary' for 25 at eight o'clock on Saturday. It's more than we need right now, but you never know."

"Mmmhmm…" was Ron's only response.

Hermione was seated at the kitchen table going over her several lists while Ron leaned against the counter across the way from her. He had his right arm wrapped protectively around his midriff, and was nervously biting the thumbnail of his left hand.

"I've also had all our names put on the VIP list at 'Witches and Wizards' so that we can get in whenever we make it over there."

"Mm…"

"Now, I have flooed everyone to find out who was going to be able to make it and told them we'd be sending them an owl with all of the details shortly."

She stood and walked over to him. He tensed immediately, and crossed his left arm over his right.

"Here's a copy of the owl I plan on sending, and here's a list of everyone who has confirmed so far."

She handed him each piece of parchment one at a time as she referred to it.

"Right." He mumbled.

"Have a look and see if I missed anything."

She placed her left hand on the counter just beside him, and leaned onto it. Glancing briefly down at her hand, Ron shifted ever so slightly away from her.

He scanned the owl quickly, and said. "Looks good."

"Are you sure? I mean shouldn't we say something about possibly meeting here first for drinks?"

She was leaning into him trying to look at the copy of the owl in his hands. She didn't notice how entranced he had become by her.

"Ron, I can't see the parchment when you hold it that high," she berated him, placing her right hand on his forearm.

He gasped and moved away from her quickly pulling his arm from her light grasp. He wouldn't turn to look at her, but chose instead to speak toward the cupboards.

"I don't care 'Mione… I mean Hermione… I mean…" He shook his head slightly. "I'm sure whatever you decide will be fine."

"Ron," she said, alarmed by his tone.

But he cut her off before she could say anything else. "Listen, I think it would be best for all concerned if you and I just kept our distance as much as possible for the rest of your time here."

"How in Merlin's name are we going to do that? We're in a bloody wedding together."

She felt herself becoming extremely distraught and she didn't know why exactly.

He chanced looking at her and instantly seemed to regret it.

"I don't know. Just… we'll manage. I have to go… be somewhere."

And with that, he fled the room leaving her gaping after him.

----------

It had been two days since then, and she hadn't seen him since.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she was getting desperate for him to acknowledge her, fight with her, insult her. Anything.

Another conversation from the previous day floated into her mind.

----------

Roberto sighed heavily. "Ron is a very honourable man who feels guilty about kissing a woman, albeit one he's in love with, that belongs to another man."

Hermione felt a blush warm her cheeks at his choice of words but huffed at him regardless. "I am not a possession, Roberto."

"I didn't say you were. Ron just doesn't want to be the other man. He wants to be the only man."

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment then gave her head a decisive shake.

"No, Berti. We both know Ron still hates me. He made that very clear."

"Augh, mamma mia. Why are you purposely being blind? You really make me want to shake sometimes, you know that?"

"I'm not being blind, Berti. He's been avoiding me for days now. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me. He even said as much."

Shaking his head in frustration, Roberto sighed heavily. "Oh, Bella. You don't understand men at all."

----------

Suddenly, a knock at the door startled her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called as she put on her earrings.

Roberto bustled into the room excitedly, and landed with flamboyant glee on the bed.

'Speak of the devil.' She thought to herself.

"Oh Bella, there are the most rugged, boyish, handsome men I have ever seen in my life downstairs. They all just arrived with a 'pop'." He giggled slightly before continuing. "Now, let me see. There's the clean-cut one, the one with the sexy scar, the one with the ponytail, and the twins. Oooooh, I love twins." He rambled almost incoherently.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He tried to calm himself so he could properly relate his exciting encounter.

"They all have red hair, they're all tall, they're all built, and they're all gorgeous. All five of them." He began to bounce happily again unable to contain himself.

"Those are Ron's brothers and they're all straight."

Roberto's face fell, and he stopped bouncing. "Really?"

"Yes, love."

"I'm in hell, aren't I?" He huffed mournfully.

She giggled at his melodramatics.

"Are any of the girls here yet?" She inquired.

"Girls? I didn't notice any girls." He muttered distractedly.

She rolled her eyes, and let out a big sigh.

Shaking her head slightly, she mused to herself. Whether they're gay or whether they're straight, men are all the same.'

"Tell them I'll be down in a minute, will you love?"

"Fine," he grumbled getting off the bed and heading for the door.

He stopped just as he was turning the doorknob. "You are sure? Not just one…"

She shook her head, and offered him a small, sympathetic smile. "All straight."

He pouted darkly and left the room with his head hung low.

Hermione looked back to the mirror to give herself one more quick once over. What she saw staring back made her pause.

Sure she looked good, but her eyes told another story. She felt like utter shit, and that malaise came shining through. She prayed the night would go by quickly. She was growing weary of pretending to be with Roberto, and having Ron avoid her completely for the fourth day in a row.

Wasn't this what she wanted? Wasn't this what she was aiming for when she first arrived? What she wouldn't now give to have him even scowl at her?

She inhaled deeply and let the breath stream out of her. She applied a thin coat of lip-gloss, and massaged her lips together as she stood. It was time to be downstairs.

Peering at her reflection, she grabbed the lip-gloss and her purse off the vanity, and willed her legs to carry her from the room.